CHAPTER XXII.

SEARCHING FOR THE DIAMONDS.

They went directly to Mrs. Tracy's room, where they found that lady in a
much higher fever of excitement than when she first discovered her loss.
All the household had assembled in the hall and in her room, except
Arthur, who sat in his library, occasionally stopping to listen to the
sound of the many voices, and to wonder why there was much noise.

Tom was there with his friend, Fred Raymond, anxiously awaiting the
arrival of Harold, whose face wore a look of wonder and perplexity which
deepened into utter amazement as Mrs. Tracy angrily demanded of him what
his business was in the hall on Wednesday morning when she saw him
sneaking through the door.

'Where had you been, and did you see my diamonds? Somebody has stolen
them,' she said, while Harold gazed at her in utter astonishment.

'Somebody stolen your diamonds!' he repeated, without the shadow of an
idea that she could in any way connect him with a theft; nor would the
idea have come to him at all, if Tom had not said to him with a sneer:

'Better own up, Hal, and restore the property. It is your easiest way
out of it.'

Then he comprehended, and had Tom knocked him senseless the effect could
not have been greater. With lips as white as ashes and fists tightly
clenched, he stood, shaking like a leaf and staring helplessly, first at
one and then at another, unable to speak until his eyes fell on Jerry,
whose face was a study. She had thrown her head forward and on one side,
and was looking intently at Tom Tracy, while her blue eyes flashed fire,
and her whole attitude was like that of a tiger ready to pounce upon its
prey. And when Harold said faintly, 'Ask Jerry; she knows,' she did
pounce upon Tom, not bodily, but with her tongue, pouring out her words
so rapidly and mingling with them so much German that it was almost
impossible to understand all she said.

'You miserable, good-for-nothing, nasty fellow,' she began. 'Do you dare
accuse Harold of stealing! Stealing! You, who are not fit to tie his
shoes! And do you want to know why he was here that morning? I can tell
you; but no, I won't tell _you_! I won't speak to you! I'll never speak
to you again; and if you try to kiss me as you did the other day,
I'll--I'll scratch out every single one of your eyes! _You_ twit Harold
for being poor, and call him a charity! What are you but a charity
yourself, I'd like to know! Is this your house? No, sir! It is